Bull Prod
by flushed puppy 15
Summary: A Bull prod is an instrument used on cattle to subdue them. In this case it is to calm ones nerves.


Au~ this is a rule 63 universe just so you know, every ones code names are the same but their first names will be different (unless its gender neutral). Now that the explanations out of the way have a good read.

Normally you would be in bed cuddled up beside your boyfriend Jean, but he was out of state with the professor and you were about to have an anxiety attack because you just had one of _those_ nightmares. Usually when that kind of stuff happened he would coddle you and sooth your mind with his own.

Tonight however was not one of those nights, instead of being in a nice cozy futon you were aimlessly wandering the twisting turns of the manor. As you made your way to the stares you over heard the T.V echo from the den, it was Hockey from what you discerned from the chanting and quiet cheers.

You came behind the couch to watch Morgan watch the game, she was chanting praise and obscenities while the points doubled every time a team made a goal.

"You like Hockey?" the question was fair enough you supposed because she grunted an affirmative as you plopped down beside her.

"'nother night mare twig? Or are you just dyin' to talk to me?" she asked in return to yours you nodded and she let forth a chuckle. "Figures, you can't sleep without him." Her eyes were void of humor though and this made you curious.

Ironic enough you were quite good at reading people, especially their eyes. "Doesn't look like you find it that funny Morgan."

Her desolate eyes turned on you and told you all you needed to know. "Piss off Summers, I don't need any mental prodding from the likes a' you." You snort and she start's to growl, "I'm not prodding, and you know it."

She stands up too quickly and for a split second you honestly think she's going to kill you, but she doesn't. She turns on her heel and gets a beer from the fridge before plopping back down next to you and flips you off with one sharp claw.

You shrug and slump back against the plush red cushion and wonder why you feel so tired.

The next morning Morgan is in the kitchen sipping from a beer bottle and you nod at her before breaking out the cereal.

"Doesn't beer taste bad with morning breath?" you ask out of the blue, true Morgan may take it the wrong way, but you can shoot lasers out of your eyes, all arguments are invalid.

"Don't taste bad after you brush your teeth. Why Twig, you curious for a taste?" she challenges giving you a wolfish grin. "Sure," you say suddenly, "I'll give it a try."

She looks least of all surprised but a glimmer in her eyes says she wants make a bet.

"Alright summers, take a sip and I can guarantee you you'll be sicker than a skunk."

You nod and take the beverage from her callused hand, you look back at her for an affirmative, but she gives none. Just stares at you with gleam in her eyes and grin on her face.

You take a swig, a small one, and swallow it. In about two seconds you feel it warm you stomach and in another two you feel like you're about to keel over like a starved cow. You immediately head for the bathroom and empty nothing but bile and water with a dark chuckle bubbling up from behind you.

Sometimes you feel like using that argument ender behind your eyes on her. You come back with bile staining your shirt and a deep frown set on your face.

"Thought you wouldn't be able to handle that," She said a grin still stretching her lips. "Though the whole puking thing I could do without, ugh what did you eat last night? A buffalo?"

She grimaced and covered her sensitive nose from the intruding stench. You just glair at her and walk off to down some mouth wash.

In the training room you both supervise the new coming students and their fighting, making sure they don't get too carried away and that they were using their powers to their full potential.

"Hey there, sugar," you turn to face Rogue a soft smile on his face and the southern drawl already calming you down from this morning. "What's got you so tense?" you shrug and rub your arm nervously.

"I just got sick this morning, nothing too bad. I feel a lot better actually." You say to derail the conversation into more pleasant waters. He makes a humming sound and gently pats you on the shoulder, kind blue eyes giving you little reassurance.

"Well if Morgan does somthin' like that again you just come and find me, 'kay?" you nod and he gives you another pat before walking off to tend to the other children. You hope that Morgan will think about leaving you alone for the rest of the day, but you are sorely mistaken.

"Hey Summers, I need a word with you." She calls after the training session is over and the students are walking out for some free time.

"Yeah, what is it?" you say prepared to run in case of emergency.

"The past couple of days have left me kind of board, how 'bout you and I have a sparring session to liven up the place?" your stance goes defensive as she starts to circle you without a confirmation.

"Look Morgan-"

"Don't you 'Look Morgan' me Scarlet." You freeze at the use of your first name. She's never called you that. "I'm plenty sure that this'll fix some tension what with Jean being gone."

She catches you off guard and tackles you to the cold metallic floor face first, you struggle to get her off, but she is much stronger than you. She uses her weight to pin you down, your cheek is pressed to the cold ground and you wonder why you feel so tired. Maybe Jean wasn't the only one who could make you calm down and think.

"I give." You mumble, her hand one your neck is not helping but with her acute hearing you figure she got the gist of all you were saying.

"You give? Well that was short, I thought you'd put up more of a fight." She eases up and you struggle to get to your feet.

That night in your soft warm bed you can't help but think of how weird the whole situation was. Sure you didn't really like Morgan all that much, and you were pretty sure she hated you with a fiery passion, but somehow your biggest rival unintentionally calmed you down. You swing your feet over the side of the bed and look out the moon bathed window. Down below you see a few birds nesting in the trees and Morgan parking her bike outside on the drive way. You guess she had been out at bar or something considering she wobbles a bit after getting off of her Harley.

You watch as she pulls a cigar out and lights it. Her mouth is billowing out smoke after a deep inhale, she kind of reminds you of chimney when she does that; you chuckle at the thought.

You make your way down the stairs before grabbing a bottle of water. She's in the same spot when you were spying on her from your bedroom window.

"Hey," you say as you hand her the bottle, she looks surprised to see you but takes the beverage without a word,

"So what're you doing out this late?" she slurs booze thick on her breath. You shrug, "Couldn't sleep I guess," you think for a moment, "I could ask you the same question actually."

She raises a brow and puffs smoke out before answering, "I got stressed, so what?"

"So you go to a bar? I can smell the alcohol Morgan." You cross your arms and give her a stern look. She reciprocates with a glare.

"So I was drinking, doesn't mean I was in a bar. I was out in the woods." She strips her leather jacket and tosses it to her bike. Underneath it was a stained tank with smudges of blood remaining on it.

"Did you get into a fight?" you ask because it's a legitimate question, Morgan glairs at you with a fiery passion,

"Yeah, with a bear, now leave me alone summers." She shoves a hand into her jean pocket and starts to trample off

But you stop her by grabbing her wrist. She whips her head around to look at you dead on, but your stance is unwavering.

"Why don't you trust me?" you ask and she tenses up because she obviously wasn't anticipating this.

"What'd you mean?" she asks her arm going ridged in your hand.

She doesn't pull away.

She doesn't lash out.

She doesn't even make a comment on how hard you're squeezing and _know_ you're squeezing hard.

She's just silent and still, like dear trying to make its mind on whether it should move or not.

"Well?" you ask to jog her memory, she flinches and her stance tightens as if it wasn't already tight enough.

"I could ask you the same question actually; don't act like you're my biggest fan. I know you're not."

You take this to heart, because while you weren't her biggest fan she knew how to get the job done and she knew how to do what was right. You trusted her with your life.

"I trust you. I may not agree with your…aggressive decisions, but I trust you with my life." She loosens her posture, "You've gained my respect over the years."

"Really?" she asks and you let go with a nod. She looks at her wrist and the bruise that was starting to swell there paled and healed in seconds.

"Thanks I guess no one's ever been too keen on trusting me. Not in the wars and not now. 'cept you that is." She went silent for a moment and her eyes looked like they would shed tears. "Thank you, for trusting Me." she mumbles so quietly you mistake it for a gust of wind. But your eyes are on her the entire time and you can read lips.

"You're welcome." You say and she cocks her head to the side to look at you. After a minute of staring she picks up the cigar she dropped lit back up and continues smoking. She crosses her arms and leans against the brick wall of the garage side. Pale moonlight shown in flecks and patterns around her callused skin and you begin to wonder why it's like that if it heals in instants. She takes a drag of her cigar and offers it to you.

"I don't know if I'd be able to hold it down, but I guess so." She smirks as you take a drag and exhale. You cough some but you're able to hold it down good enough not make a mockery of yourself.

"Hmm, guess you're not so weak after all." She says after you hand it back to her. You shrug and lean against the wall beside her.

"Guess you aren't such a brute after all." You say with a wry smile.

She smirks at you and huffs in your face, you wave the smoke off and think of how peaceful it is.

The two of you are like bull prods; you hurt each other, that's true. It was impossible not to make her mad and it was impossible not to ruffle your feathers every once in a while.

And yet there were times when you calmed each other down in mere seconds; that was the strange part.

You let out a huff of cold air and started to head inside. "C'mon it's getting cold out here." She lets out a chuckle and gets up to follow.

"Yeah, yeah, right behind you Summers."


End file.
